And Back to Three
by Sylvie Orp
Summary: Final chapter of 'And then there were ...' A lighter story!
1. Chapter 1

Ruth watched her husband by the fireside. He was lost in his own head, as he increasingly was. It was like watching a film by proxy as thoughts and emotions flitted across his mobile face and readable eyes as he looked, unseeingly, into the fire. How long had they been married now? 20? 25 years? It seemed like yesterday. Ruth joined Ray in their separate mental journeys into the past. If she were honest with herself - and the long reach of time made such a thing easier - her first marriage to Dougie had been on the rocks before he took fatally ill. Not sinking yet, but certainly taking in water. His promotion through the police ranks had taken their toll on him and on their marriage. His long absences from home could no longer be blamed entirely on his work. Since they'd moved down to London, he had joined in with his hard hitting, hard drinking police pals. He would frequently come home drunk and Ruth would have to explain daddy's 'illness' somehow to their little girl, Grace. Ruth had shielded her from the worst of it. Dougie had never raised a hand to either of them, but the threat was always in the air. They had to tiptoe around him softly and very carefully. Then Dougie had developed meningitis. It was touch and go. Ruth had hoped, of course, that Dougie would get through it; he was a strong man physically and mentally. She also hoped that this brush with death would bring her husband to his senses and they'd make a new start. He may even consider leaving the force and they could … but her dreams had never come to pass. Dougie had died and she and Grace had had to try to rebuild their lives alone - until one fateful meeting.

It was ironic that Ruth and Ray had met back at the same hospital, some years after Dougie had died. Grace, then 7, was recovering from a traffic accident. Not only had the return to the white and sterile corridors brought all the memories flooding back, but Ray turned out to be a copper, too - well, a kind of copper (he eventually admitted). However, that was the only thing that he and Dougie had in common. She had tried to disguise her shock when he'd told her his job, and so had smiled bravely at this very good-looking man. She had taken a deep breath and gritted her teeth and was determined to at least give Ray the benefit of the doubt. She felt that she needed to move on with her life, and some instinct told her that Ray Doyle may just be such a man to help her do that. As the weeks of courting turned to months, she knew that this man now sat before her was unlike Dougie as sand was to water. He was tender and sensitive and, most of all, he loved Grace as much as she loved him. As the years passed and Grace got into her difficult teenage years, not once did she throw back at Ray that he wasn't her real father. Ruth wondered how much Grace had remembered of Dougie, and what those feelings and memories were. Ruth had told Ray little of her earlier married life. He hadn't asked and she hadn't said. Can silence be a lie? She was sure that there were parts of his life, too, unknown to her and she certainly didn't know about the specifics of his job. He said that it was safer that way, and she believed him.

About ten years or so ago Ray's boss, Major Cowley - a frequent visitor at the house - retired. If Ray or his mate, Bodie, had been considered for the post, neither man got it. Ray seemed neither surprised nor disappointed. Ruth knew her husband to be a man of action, and sitting behind a desk shuffling papers wasn't his way. Give that job to an older man - and so they had. But things had changed, as things must. Ray was not immune to getting older and his reactions weren't as quick as they once were. In his mid-50s he decided to call it a day. Bodie had already retired and crept quietly and slowly from their lives as time passed. With him and the Major gone, there was little to keep Ray in CI5. The wind and drive had gone out of him. Last year Major Cowley passed away. They were surprised that Bodie hadn't attended the funeral but had no way of contacting him. They assumed that he didn't know.

Ray had got a part-time job as a security consultant. They didn't need the money - CI5 had paid well - but Ray wasn't one to sit around - even with a paintbrush in his hand and an easel in the study. But every now and then he would sit quietly in the evening, as he was sitting now, and reminisce in his head. He looked infinitely sad as he watched the fire burn down. Their dog, Sandy, seemed to sense the mood and she put her head on Ray's knee. He rubbed the dog's ear distractedly. It was the anniversary of Cowley's passing. Ruth had forgotten, but Ray hadn't. He relived the scrapes and japes he and Bodie had got up to; how they'd often blatantly disobeyed Cowley's direct orders; how they often had been hauled up before him like naughty schoolboys. Those days seemed endless, timeless, immediate. There seemed nothing they couldn't handle between them. Yes, there were friends lost in the heat of battle, others moving on and away (as Bodie had), but the war was ever the same - even worse now, the sophisticated weaponry available to even the lowliest of the villains. Ray sighed. He was glad to have got out. It was a young man's game and he was honest enough to know that he was no longer a young man. Best to get out while still alive, rather than hang on and wait till a bullet or a 'no longer fit for active duty' statement found you.

Ruth watched her husband shake his head at an internal conversation, then run his fingers irritably through his thick, grey hair. He seemed to have come to a decision, or the end of his conversation. He dragged his thoughts away from the fire and looked into his wife's eyes. He had sensed her quiet presence. She furrowed her eyebrows briefly and cocked her head. 'What?' her gesture implied.

"Just … thinking," Ray said softly. There was a catch in his throat. He knew she wouldn't press for details.

She wasn't sure who was uppermost in his mind - the Major, Bodie, or CI5 in general - but she was sure that this was the terrain where her husband was wandering. She went over and knelt by his side, the dog at the other knee. He took her face and gently kissed her. Their intimacy was broken by Grace and her half-sister, Anne, bursting in - full of youth and enthusiasm. They stopped suddenly and tried to backtrack across the threshold.

"Oops, sorry," said an embarrassed Anne.

Her parents looked across at the gangly girls - one nearly a woman now; the other older but not much wiser - and smiled.

"It's ok. We're done," Ray grinned.

Ruth got up and was about to say something when the doorbell rang. Anne, being nearest, opened the door. The adults heard her gasp. Doyle was first to reach her, anxiously. In the doorway stood a slim, immaculately dressed, very handsome man. Bodie had come home.


	2. Chapter 2 We need to talk about Bodie

In the doorway stood a slim, immaculately dressed, very handsome man. Bodie had come home.

The family were struck dumb. They looked at him as though at a ghost. Doyle at last and at least managed to ask their guest to come in. Doyle squeezed past his wife and daughters and ushered his friend into the living room. Where to begin? Asking Bodie where the hell he'd been these past few years and why he'd popped back now, sounded too hostile. He didn't want to frighten Bodie off. His friend looked embarrassed as it was, and was perhaps asking himself the very same question of why the hell he'd come.

"Could you get us a coffee, Grace?" Doyle asked his daughter. He looked more closely at Bodie – "And something to eat?" Even in her innocence she sensed that her Dad and family favourite wanted to be alone.

After the family had dispersed themselves around the house there was an awkward silence. Neither of them knew how to begin. Doyle got practical. "If you'd like to stay over, you're more than welcome." He couldn't fail but notice Bodie's holdall.

Bodie continued to look unsure as though weighing up whether there were strings attached. Eventually he said, "That'd be good – if you don't mind."

It sounded stilted; the voice of a stranger stranded on the road. As if sensing that for himself, Bodie continued. "Look, I'm sorry to turn up out of the blue."

"Turning up out of the blue is one thing; disappearing for nearly two years out of the blue is another." Doyle tried to keep his voice and face neutral. Unfortunately Ray's wife, Ruth, broke the mood by turning up with tea and sandwiches. She, too, sensed that the men wanted to be alone.

"Thanks, Ruth. Bodie's staying over."

Doyle gave his wife a distracted kiss on the cheek before she left. She gave an encouraging smile to their guest, but he was staring out of the window. He turned back to his mate after she'd gone and they drank their tea in silence. Doyle watched his friend eat the sandwiches, savouring every crumb. Doyle's professional eye picked up a paleness under a tan and a gauntness in his friend; a wariness about the eyes; a tenseness in the body. The suit was every inch a tailor's skill. The jacket still hung well on the broad shoulders – but there was a difference in his friend; the man he'd known for years. Bodie noticed Ray assessing him but said nothing. The silence hung again. Bodie had retired from the service before Doyle but had always been a regular visitor to the house, even after Ray himself retired. But slowly, over the years the visits had become more and more infrequent. If he had suddenly dropped out of sight, Cowley or his successor, Barnforth, would have pressed the 'panic' button and got the dogs out looking for him. An agent never really leaves the service and any funny business is taken seriously. But Bodie's absence had not been a bang, but a gradual fading from the picture; phone calls not returned, excuses made, no forwarding address, etc. Doyle was hurt and angry. What had he done wrong? Had their friendship and loyalty to each other meant nothing beyond CI5? Seeing the man in front of him again brought back the old hurt and misery. He tried to keep it in check. He needed answers, but there was something he needed to say first.

"Do you know that George died last year?" He kept his voice gentle. His skill at breaking bad news had never left him.

Bodie nodded. "Anniversary today," he said simply, still staring at his empty plate.

"I had no way of letting you know." Doyle tried not to sound accusing.

"I know. I heard it on the grapevine. Too late to do anything about it." As if sensing that Doyle needed more, he added: "I went to the grave this morning to pay my respects."

 _That's something at least,_ Doyle thought to himself. He noticed that Bodie couldn't or wouldn't make eye contact.

"Do you want something else to eat?"

Bodie shook his head. He seemed unsure of why he'd come now; why he'd opened up a friendship he thought he'd closed the door on.

"Just answer me – us – why, Bodie?" Doyle said softly, trying to find a way in.

"Why I left you mean?"

"Yup."

Bodie shrugged as though considering the question for the first time. "We're not married, Doyle." The anger couldn't come out – not yet.

"A reason would be good," Doyle cajoled.

Bodie tried to look his friend in the eye, but couldn't manage it. He knew he needed to be honest with himself and his friend. "Two's company …" He sighed and started again. "You've always made me welcome. I know that. You and the girls -" Doyle knew he included Ruth in this. "- but I needed something for myself, something to own. Hell, someone to be with." He finally looked pleadingly at his friend, silently begging him to understand but not with pity. Doyle nodded slightly in encouragement. Bodie seemed ashamed. "Look at you, Doyle," Bodie swung an arm around the room, "a lovely wife – though God knows how she's stuck you so long –" he was trying at humour and failing "lovely kids, a lovely home, a lovely life –" Bodie shook his head. "Christ, how pathetic is that – is me?"

Doyle began to see things from Bodie's point of view. Doyle had everything Bodie hadn't. Bodie had bedded every willing woman he could lay his manicured hands on, but nothing permanent. There had been times when Doyle thought that he'd been 'caught', but Bodie had sensed it and walked away. He was good at that – walking away. The last time Doyle had been in touch with Bodie he'd seen him with a female who seemed to be sticking around. Doyle had thought that Bodie had gone off and married her. Clearly that hadn't been the case. Doyle chided himself for being too romantic. Now Bodie was left adrift. The spare 'relative' that no-one knew quite what to do with; who didn't fit in anywhere.

"You had some very beautiful relationships. That woman, what's her name, that I saw you with last?" Doyle was about to add how long ago that had been but didn't want to be truculent.

"She died." Bodie stated baldly.

"I'm sorry. When?"

Bodie shrugged his broad shoulders. Doyle waited. He was good at interrogation.

"A while back. That's when I got out. I felt that that there was nothing for me here. I thought I might find something somewhere else. Chasing a bloody rainbow."

Again Doyle waited. Bodie sighed and after a while lost in his own thoughts he glanced at his mate again.

"You always were good at the waiting game."

A tentative smile slid across Doyle's face. He was relieved to see a small, shy smile trying to emerge on the other side of the table.

"I barge right in."

"Tell me about the girlfriend."

Bodie shrugged. It was old news now. "Sandra. I thought we might have had something. Perhaps I was just desperate. I dunno. She died in a car crash. I got a mate in the force to look more deeply into it. I didn't want CI5 involved unless I had to. Purdy came back and said that there was nothing suspicious – drunk driver hit her square on. The bastard died too. Don't know if I was glad or not. Death was too good for him. He didn't get what he deserved."

"After that you took to the hills?"

"Once I knew that there was no vendetta – and I knew that you were well dug in here – I …" Again that reluctance to give himself up. After a few moments to gather himself, Bodie continued. "I went to my old stomping ground in Berlin. It was East Berlin as I knew it then. You should see how it's changed now the Ruskies have pulled out and the Wall's come down. Sorry, of course. You didn't see the 'before' much less the 'after' did you? Well, I hung about there for a bit. Course the people and places have changed beyond all recognition. Hell, even the tourists knew more about the new Berlin than I did. So I trailed round bits of Europe here and there, then decided to go to Africa – not the Congo, but South Africa. I knew a few people there." Doyle knew – or thought he knew – about a woman Bodie had met there and whom he lived with for a time in the old days. An older woman, Doyle thought. Bodie carried on. "Course the place has changed – not for the better either. And I didn't think that was possible. The place and the people have got harder; more entrenched. Apartheid's still alive and well and living in Cape Town. Nothing for me there, either. Would have been suicide to go to the Middle East. That's in flames – always has been. Decided to go to somewhere I'd never been before. Went off to India. Not the hippy trail – no shaven heads and funny drugs for me –" Doyle was relieved. "Then to Sri Lanka – Ceylon as was. Interesting place. Then, for some reason, I went to Hong Kong. If you're going to psychoanalyse me, Doyle, then, yeah, I suppose I was thinking of you and Cowley and the whole bloody lot of you. You know, I even went to the Hong Kong Station – and I'm not talking trains." Doyle was all agog. Bodie certainly had his attention. "Course, they weren't going to let me in or just accept that I was a former member of Her Majesty's elite force, but I dropped a few names …" Bodie's light, increasingly relaxed manner suddenly darkened. "… That's when I heard that Cowley had died. When they realised that I was who I said I was, they put me in front of a few people who'd known the Cow in his youth. They were certainly past their prime, but not gaga. I'll tell you a few stories later." Doyle didn't interrupt the flow, though he was dying to know what those stories were – though probably exaggerated over the years. "So I made my way home. I got back about a week ago. Wanted to go to the – you know - on the anniversary."

Doyle nodded. He didn't ask why Bodie hadn't come directly 'home'. He didn't know what to say either. Everything he thought of sounded like a platitude or a quote from some goofy self-help manual, so he fell back on man's best friend in times of crisis.

"Do you fancy going to the pub?"

Bodie shook his head. "Bit of a headache to tell the truth. Might lie down for a bit."

Doyle was instantly alarmed. All kinds of medical diagnoses clamoured for pole position in his head. Did Bodie already know that he was ill? Is that why he'd come back? To see his old mate before he … No, Doyle yelled at himself, don't jump to conclusions. As calmly as he could he asked: "Do you get headaches a lot?"

"Stop looking so bloody anxious Doyle. I haven't come back with any funny diseases. Jet lag, that's all."

"Jet lag doesn't last a week."

Bodie looked at him tiredly. "I'll see a doctor if that'd put your mind at rest and stop you fussing. No wonder I left. I … Christ, sorry Ray. I didn't mean that. I … I don't know what I mean any more. Perhaps I should go." Bodie got up, frustrated and angry with himself. This had been one very big mistake to come here; one amongst many mistakes.

"You've only just come. Go to bed. And, yes, that is an order, and I'll make an appointment before you change your mind."

Bodie slept till around 6 next morning. He lay in bed listening to the dawn chorus. An hour later the household stirred. Still he lay there. His headache, despite some aspirin Ruth had given him last night, hadn't gone away. When he felt that everyone had finished in the bathroom he made his way there. He found some paracetamol in the cabinet and took three before having a shower and a shave. He didn't feel much better. Doyle had given his daughters a quick debrief after Bodie had gone to bed and said that their guest wasn't in the mood for talking but had had adventures around the world and had decided to come home. No, he didn't know how long Bodie would be staying. In the privacy of their bedroom that night, Doyle gave his wife more detail and said he was anxious. Doyle didn't need to ask Ruth whether she minded having Bodie to stay for an indefinite period. He knew that he was – had been – a brother to her. Doyle also knew that he was so lucky in the way his life had panned out. Bodie was right – lovely wife, lovely kids, lovely everything. Ruth was right, too, when she suggested in the quietness of their bed, that Bodie needed a purpose.

As Bodie settled at the breakfast table Doyle told him that he had an appointment with their local GP at 9 o'clock. He didn't add how difficult that had been to arrange but tried to trust that Bodie would go. The meal could have been a strain as it had been the previous day but Bodie put a brave face on things and told the girls about some of his adventures. Doyle knew instinctively that Bodie was editing as he went along and exaggerating other things. He was a lively storyteller. He looked more relaxed than when he'd first arrived.

Doyle tried not to show his anxiety as the morning dragged on. Eventually Bodie returned from the surgery and said that he'd had a blood test and should get the results the following day. Doyle told him to rest any time he felt tired. He was no longer a stranger in the Doyle household and didn't need to ask. Ray had been doing a lot of thinking during the long night hours. His future was settled; Bodie's clearly wasn't. Nor, it seemed, had Bodie any ideas as regards his future which he seemed to be looking at through a dark veil. He knew that the best attack with Bodie was to meet him head on; no messing about.

"Are you back in England for good?"

"I suppose."

Clearly Ruth was right – Bodie had no idea where he went from here.

"Where's your kit?" Bodie had brought a holdall but, hopefully, that wasn't his life's possessions.

"In a lock-up in Ealing." That was the area of Bodie's last known whereabouts.

"Ok. You'll need somewhere to live. You can use this as base till you find somewhere permanent."

"You don't have to do this, Ray."

"What - care about you? Ruth would never forgive me if I didn't. And Cowley'll be looking down and shaking his head at me if I let you out of my sight again!"

Bodie smiled for the first time. It almost reached his eyes.

"You're a mate, Ray Doyle."

Doyle shrugged. "Well, I try my best."

This time the smile did reach his eyes.

The next day, Bodie went for his results. Nothing too worrying. He needed a healthier diet, a healthier life-style and rest and quiet. Doyle felt that Bodie had had enough rest and quiet bumming round the world, but said nothing. He knew that Bodie would be getting all the healthy diet he needed in Ruth's hands – whether he accepted it or not! Everyone in the household took turns at cooking and chores and Bodie was no exception. He found enjoyment again in the simple act of sharing the washing-up, making meals for the family, walks in the countryside, someone to come home to. He hadn't realised how much he missed all this. He was a fool to walk away from it. He'd wasted the past couple of years and he wasn't going to make the same mistake again. He knew that Doyle was still wary that he was going to walk out on him – on them – again and there wasn't much he could do to allay that fear. All he could do was be there for them. Time would have to do the rest.

Bodie ended up staying at Chez Doyle for nearly seven months while he – and they – looked for accommodation and that elusive purpose. After a few false starts, he settled on volunteering to help with a young offenders' programme. Grace, the elder of the two girls, found Bodie a good excuse to leave home and set up with her boyfriend. She said that, though she enjoyed his company, the house was getting a little cramped for them all. She knew that Ray was against 'living in sin' (though so open minded and modern in other ways) but he was gradually worn down by the sisterhood and relented. She was a young woman now and she needed to spread her wings. Eventually Bodie found a maisonette not far from the family. The following year, he even married the estate agent who drew up the contract! Ruth and Doyle denied having anything to do with the match-making, but they did have a lot to do with Bodie's happiness. The one became two.

6


End file.
